True Love Stories Never Have Happy Endings
by zenniel
Summary: Oneshot. Andryl. T for blood, death, and cussing. "They'd told the group she was pregnant. But no matter how much the group tried to get her to be like Lori, Andrea would not have it."


**Some people noted that two of my previous stories might have been linked together. More specifically, the stories 'The House' and 'She'd Lost Too Much' contain hints of a baby between Andrea and Daryl. Here is another fanfic about their baby.**

They'd told the group she was pregnant. It wasn't even a real twinkling in her eye yet, just a thought that might soon be fully realized. This was the first time that the group had really and truly known what Andrea and Daryl were up to. Sure, most of them _thought_ they knew, but not everyone _knew_ they knew; after Andrea said she was pregnant, though, everyone understood. Andrea and Daryl were in some sort of love. Perhaps not the type of love that would enforce a marriage later on, perhaps not the love that Maggie and Glenn felt; perhaps not the long-term love of Rick and Lori, but it was love enough. And they were having a baby.

No matter how much the group tried to get her to be like Lori, Andrea would not have it. She made sure she was treated like she always was, often saying "You didn't know before now and I'm pretty sure you would have let me. I know when I won't be able to do anything anymore. Now is _not_ the time."

Perhaps it was worse that Daryl took her side on these matters. When both of the hardest-to-break people stood on one side of an argument, it was sure to break down pretty quickly, and it did. Andrea was allowed to be one of the men still. It was a breakthrough for her, for both of them. She promised herself that she would, however, make sure her body's needs were first priority. In a way, Andrea needed this baby about as much as she needed the group.

* * *

For those with the eye of spying walkers, the town was desolate. There was not one walker, not one vague stirring. Nevertheless, Rick made sure there were at least three people together as they scanned the houses. Not much food, not much of anything. These houses had been picked through already; Daryl knew that they'd been picked through recently. It wasn't until the third or fourth house that he realized just how recently the other pickers had been through. There was no dust where the footprints landed, no dust where a stolen cup had lain. No dust on the surface but dust in the air, stirring as he breathed.

"Shit!" Daryl breathed and his first reaction was to turn and find Andrea. "Andrea, where are you?"

"Upstairs," her voice was distant, above him.

He spun, whirling around and his face met the flat end of a shovel.

* * *

Andrea was with Glenn in the family's master bedroom. He held up a shirt that had the words 'Open Wide' as the dentist phrase but with a woman acting surprised with her hand next to her mouth and looked quizzically at Andrea. "Really?" He asked.

Andrea chuckled, "I guess they were an easygoing family. Wouldn't ever let any husband of mine wear anything like that."

Glenn grinned, "Yeah, your husband only wears plaid."

She was thinking of a retort for him when Daryl's voice called from downstairs. He sounded worried. She headed over to the open door and leaned out calling, "Upstairs!"

When she didn't hear back from him, she shrugged and turned back to Glenn. He was looking at another shirt, and she shook her head slightly before telling him that if Maggie caught him wearing that, she'd probably kill him. Sheepishly, Glenn put the shirt back on the hangar and set it on the bed, telling her that it was only meant as a joke. She only grinned. "Sure it was a joke."

The Asian turned around with a grin that instantly fell, "Andrea!"

The last thing she knew was the searing pain in the back of her head and Glenn pulling out his gun.

* * *

It was his voice that woke her up from her slumber. "Andrea? Andrea; dammit, wake up Blondie."

She pried her eyes open and her head was assailed with pain. She tried to clutch at it but her hands were locked by something and she couldn't move them enough to hold it. Instead, she scrunched up, assuming as much a fetal position as she could. She heard something akin to a sigh of relief before she felt a movement by her butt. She lay for a while, eyes halfway open, before she could finally push herself upward and then she was sitting crisscross applesauce. When one pain slowly began to subside, another pain in her abdomen made its way to the forefront.

"Andrea." The word that assailed her ears was so pain-filled that it startled her and she looked up. It was Daryl; that familiar voice was Daryl.

"I'm fine." She lied and he could see that she was lying.

"Shuddup, Blondie. When I saw ya, there was blood. You ain't hurt?" Daryl asked and she blinked at him stupidly for a moment.

Then gasped and looked at her stomach, felt the lingering pain like a million period cramps that she'd never experienced as badly in her life, and saw the incredibly large blood stain that spread down both sides of her jeans. She felt the low moan creep up her esophagus and bent in two, letting out a long, low sob. The problem was, while she was innately sad, while she cried for the lost child, and while she could still _feel_ the disgusting mess in her pants, she was actually relieved. Because then a baby wouldn't have been born into this world.

She could tell Daryl was fighting as hard as he could against the restraints to get to her side. She choked back the sobs for later and raised her head to look at him. He was furious, "Andrea, the baby? Andrea, how's the baby?"

"The baby's gone, Daryl." She managed to choke out as tears continued to slide down her face. But she looked at him and she could see the tears in his eyes also, and suddenly he was ravaging against the chains, ignoring any pain, she believed.

"Dammit fucking shitheads killing my baby I'm going to _kill_ them motherfuckers." Daryl raged but Andrea's look silenced him.

"Daryl," Her voice wavered but she knew her staring eyes were still. "Daryl, I need you—I need you to keep a calm head. Where are we?"

Daryl gnashed his teeth, "How the hell are ya _calm_, Blondie? Our baby—"

"Because," Andrea sighed and felt the pain lash at her stomach again, "I know we have to focus now. I'll… I'll be sad later."

The man she loved looked at her like she was crazy and then sighed, "Least Asian ain't here. Was with ya, right?"

Andrea nodded, "But I don't know if he got away."

"Sure as hell got away, Andrea. He ain't here."

Andrea bit her lip and then nodded. "Alright, then who're we up against?"

* * *

Daryl couldn't understand how Andrea had grieved for their baby that quickly. His heart still raced and his wrists were raw from where he'd thrashed against them. He longed to rub his wrists free of dried blood and spring to hold his Andrea in his arms. She'd just lost their baby and it pained him more to see her so calm than it would have pained him to see her suffering. And he knew why she wasn't suffering. She'd blocked her pain just like she'd blocked her pain after Amy died.

He pushed himself back to the wall and just managed to relieve the weight from his hands while he told her about the cannibals that hadn't quite finished their previous meal of human flesh so for the mean time to both of them were in an okay state. She didn't like his joking and he could see the pain in her eyes, both physical and mental. He didn't like holding her but this deserved a different thought process. This deserved him wrapping his arms around the woman he'd grown to love and holding her tight. Hell, he didn't even care if she cried.

She was staring thoughtfully at him and he blinked at her, "What?"

"I've got a pin in my hair. I can free us." She tried to reason.

"Ya gonna break yer arms an' snake yer way out?" He drawled, trying to hide his own sadness behind a wall of anger.

She shrugged. "I've felt worse." And he could see the tears again, trying so hard to push out through her eyes.

In the end she extended herself as far as she could across the ground and pulled the pin out of her hair without having to break her arms. When she pushed herself up, he was rewarded with the disgusting view of a pool and then a slide pattern of blood from where her pants had been. How she couldn't think about it made him slightly sick to his stomach.

They waited for a long while to see if their captors would come back and occasionally, he'd glance over at her and see her just sitting there, staring at nothing. This had to be pretty rough on her but he had no words to say. He wasn't ever the speech-y kind of guy. When their captors didn't come and the room they were stuck in began to sink into darkness as the night came on, Andrea finally shook herself out of her thoughts. Then, with a glance toward him, she began undoing her manacles.

It was only luck that they didn't walk in on her as she scooted over to him and planted her lips, soft and searching, on his. He allowed it; hell, he even welcomed it, leaning into her kiss as far as he could. She pulled away with a small smile but he could tell she already felt better. Then, with a quick movement, she skirted behind him and he could smell the disgusting scent of blood wafting around her. Within moments, he was free and before he even thought about massaging his aching wrists, she threw herself into his arms and hugged him. He hugged her tightly back, too tightly, but it wasn't enough.

Finally, he pulled away; "'Nough fer now. We gotta get outta here first."

She agreed easily enough and he stood while he rubbed his wrists then helped pull her up. He couldn't help but see her wince as she stood, clutching her stomach. But she was strong, like always. "Let's go before they know we're gone."

* * *

Perhaps it was luck that they'd only been transported a neighborhood away. Daryl and Andrea escaped out of one of the windows, made their way as quietly on the roof as they could, then he dropped to the ground and caught her as she fell. She cast him a grateful look as he handled her with care but then they were off running again, Andrea pushing past the uncomfortable feeling in her legs and the cramping in her stomach. She didn't have the time to think about this right now, but she felt wholly _guilty_ for what had happened.

They met Rick's search party back near the last couple houses in the other subdivision and she could tell from the moment he saw her bloody jeans. Glenn was still innocent, but later he found out, too. Rick didn't say he was sorry and she silently thanked him for that. He did, however, allow her to raid a house for clothes. With luck, this subdivision was fed off of a well and she stripped off her bloody jeans and underwear, submerged her lower body in water, cleaned herself off with old soap, and then dried off with a towel. Then she found other underwear and a skirt that fit her; she was unwilling to wear pants for now, remembering too clearly the wet feeling. She didn't even look at her old clothes. It was too disgusting.

It was Daryl who sat on the bed when she got out of the bathroom and it was Daryl she folded herself into and it was Daryl who held her close to him as she finally, truly grieved.

* * *

It took a while to get over it. She didn't know whether to be relieved or grieving for the lost life, but in the end she settled for a rather-healthy middle. The cramps slowly ended but the nightmares didn't for quite some time. Daryl's arms were always there in the night, though, and she was forever grateful for him. He didn't ask her if she was okay simply because she knew he knew that she wasn't. Not for some time, of course, but after a while they both moved on. It was a long time before they actually shared the bed again; the first time it was tentative but later times were more heartfelt and less stiff.

Besides, after Lori and her daughter's death, Andrea fully began to understand how much danger her child might have been in if it had survived. Still, a life had been lost. And Andrea wondered if she'd ever be ready to have another.


End file.
